A 'hop-ed' piece on bad beer puns

Because, seriously, they're the worst. They may literally be the most harmful thing that the craft beer industry has going against it.

Imagine yourself, for a moment, in line at a store. You're looking for a craft beer — something delicious, you'd hope, which means you want a brewery that looks like they know what they're doing. You want a beer that looks like it was made by a professional — after all, maybe this is your first, and you're used to the glitz and glamor of the big boys.

Or you're a longtime craft beer aficionado and you're rolling into a new town — new liquor store, new selection, new beer territories — and you want something that gives you confidence. There's nothing worse than grabbing a six-pack of something you've never heard of, only to find out that - GASP - it's kind of horrible.

In both of these situations, you might see names that play to the landscape, like Buffalo Sweat from Tallgrass, Canyon Cream Ale from Crow Peak or 208 Session Ale from Grand Teton Brewing. You might see beers that are named after their history, like 90 Shilling from Odell or Fat Tire from New Belgium. Or you might see beers (and these are my favorite) that simply describe what they are. I have no doubt what I'm getting when I order a Schell's Hefeweizen or an Odell IPA.

Beers can be themed. Take a look at the dark and brooding historical and fictional characters and settings that grace bottles of Great Lakes Brewing (Edmund Fitzgerald, Eliot Ness) or the nearly evil gargoyle-inspired names of Stone (Ruination, Arrogant Bastard).

And then there are the puns.

For every Sierra Nevada Northern Hemisphere Harvest — a beer named after the hemisphere in which its fresh hops are delivered — there's a thousand beers with the word "Hopocalypse." There's Moylan's Hopsickle Imperial IPA. There's Fulton's Sweet Child of Vine. There's Bruery's Tart of Darkness.

Even the good guys fall into the trap. Great Lakes' Rye of the Tiger (groan) and Grand Teton's Pursuit of Hoppiness (argh) are two of my favorite beers but two of the worst puns ever.

Listen, I'm a father, so I appreciate a horrible pun. But I also understand that those horrible puns are designed to elicit groans, safe within the confines of my own home, free from judgement by anyone but my kids and wife, who - TRUST ME - use up plenty of judgement whenever I let one slip.

You have to sell your beer. I get it. You have to be noticed. You know that some people love puns, and even the slightest amount of misguided cleverness might help move a unit from the shelf.

But this is your beer you're selling, breweries of the world. The eternal ridiculousness of your puns are more than groan-worthy — they are undermining the deliciousness of the beers inside. They are sending the wrong message. They are harbingers of bad taste, and that is the exact thing you're trying to fight against.

Let the team at Shock Top use those puns for future releases, or save them for the Bad Beer Puns Twitter feed. Instead, design a great bottle and let the beer speak for itself.